


Memories

by ShinigamiSlingby



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Non Canonical Immortal, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, basically they are immortals but not the countries, war (not really mentioned that much)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinigamiSlingby/pseuds/ShinigamiSlingby
Summary: This was a side project away from my other Hetalia fanfic. It is set on Earth and is after the apocalypse. Francis is searching through his memories and is forced into the thoughts of his first true love, Arthur. It mentions topics such as war but I tend to respectfully skim over the details of these due to the nature of the events. Mentions of Homophobia, death and suicide are pretty frequent. If you are uncomfortable with any of these, don't read it. I would sooner have you feel comfortable than more reads. NOT FINISHED!





	

Sitting in this chair felt so alien now; after years of trying to find this place again, I finally feel at home. All of the stories that had once been told in thjs chair came flooding back in a brief moment. The intrigued faces of our children were the only things that I lived for, but now that has gone. I only have myself to entertain with such wonderful stories- stories of a life lived tenfold.   
  
Trust me to be the only immortal left.   
  
I should have gotten used to watching the people that I love exit my life by now. Many died- the rest were cases where I had to force myself away in order to save heartbreak. Both are tough but leaving is worse; then the pain is shared and the guilt is left where love once stood. If it meant that only I have to shoulder the pain, I would rather have them die happy. One heart can only be broken a handful of times but I have had mine crushed enough to last a thousand human lifetimes. Even when it was only my countrymen- my heart broke nonetheless. I let out a deep sigh and fell into a better pit of my memories.   
  
I do not remember the exact date that we met; details like that get lost when you are my age, but I remember how we met. It was a hazy summer afternoon in England- I can remember that at least. My language skills were improving at a snail's pace. It was uncommon for me to speak a sentence without slipping up, or completely falling back into French. This was probably my greatest embarrassment at the time- nothing else fazed me. I wanted to make my way in the country of my dreams but, when most of the population hate you and your country, it is difficult.   
  
Then I met him. He was the most handsome man in the whole café- it was a surprise that he was sat alone, to be honest. His eyes could melt even the thickest, coldest hearts; but they also held an air of fiery independence that masked his lonely thoughts. It was that veridian mass that truly captured my wandering heart.   
  
As I mentioned before, my English skills were terrible but I was determined to speak to him.   
  
.   
  
His hands shook as he approached the table slowly, eyes fixed on the man at the table. How could his gaze be swayed by anyone else? This was the fifth time that he had spotted the young man in this café but this was the first time that he had mustered up an ounce of confidence to speak to him. The man hadn't noticed Francis yet- he was sat with his back slightly to Francis, reading a copy of Divine Comedy with one hand and had his other wrapped around a cup of dark tea. This was much to Francis' delight, even if it upset the other portion of his brain. He managed to stop the shaking just as he say next to the man.   
  
"Oh, hello. You startled me there." he smiled politely, putting his book face down- his hand still held onto the page. Francis didn't know what to say; the panic of trying to speak, and hearing the blond's voice, Francis froze.   
"Well aren't you going to say something dear? It's rude to keep a man waiting you know." he nodded once to Francis with a small smirk.

 _Were my intentions that clear?_   
  
"I'm presuming you don't know where you are." Arthur chuckled lightly, placing both hands together. "Don't worry you are safe here."

"Bon- I er hello." Francis mumbled, trying to escape his strong gaze in embarrassment. Those words stuck in his head, even if he didn't fully understand what they meant.

"Now now, there is no need to get flustered over something so small. You may be new to our language but I won't  laugh. Bonjour, Cá va? he smiled, placing a hand on Francis' shoulder. He felt the  blood rush to his cheeks as he looked into his lap. _How can someone so thoughtful and considerate want to talk to the likes of me?_

"Good.... merci. Cá va?" Francis forced out with a brief smile. This was truly panic as he would have talked the man's ear off by now. Maybe it was the language difference or maybe it was the way his veridian eyes shone with anticipation. Or maybe the way he was the only one who smiled at him...

"Brilliant! Oh, maybe I could teach you English? I would like to become a teacher; when my father's iron grip over me ceases that is." he stifled a laugh.

"That.. would be- be good, no?" he smiled; although his voice was lined with a thick accent, he didn't care. All of the fear of being in a new country had dissipated, all that was left was the strangely beautiful man's eyes and smile.

"Meet me here whenever you need to and I will help you with your English. I'm in here every day"

.

That day, although there were many before it, was one of my favourites. Meeting Arthur was probably the best day of my life. I had finally met the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with- but obviously, that was fairly impossible.

My mind was filled with so much hope that I had forgotten the differences between us. He was most likely human. What could I say if, when he grew old, I remained young? I couldn't bare to see him to die, not another taken from me so brutally. Life must be so cruel, it gives and it takes away in barely equal measure. This in a manner not even fitting of mortal enemies; anyone who has experienced love could tell you this.

My idiotic mind was as stubborn as usual and pressed on speaking with him, even through my immense doubt. Once I had decided on something like this; there is rarely a way to sway me. By our next meeting, my English had improved drastically on its own. My soul drive was to talk to him without slipping up.

Then again, I don't think that would be possible. Even if I was born speaking English as my first language.

.

"What is your name? I forgot to ask on our first meeting- how rude of me!" he exclaimed in typical overdramatic fashion. Arthur dragged Francis through the tall grass onto a field that he had found a week prior. It was a fairly warm day again; the glowing sun beating down on the lightly tinted grass from a cloudless sky. Maybe it was a break from the terrible weather, a sign from a higher intelligence, or simply the affect that Arthur has on the world but it is drastically different from what Francis was expecting. It was closer to his homeland's climate.

"My name is Francis. And I... er forgot to.. to ask you yours." he sighed, looking to the floor in defeat. He thought that his language skills had gotten better but they were clearly lacking.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland. It's a fantastic name, Francis, it suits you. Francis what?"

"Bonnefoy" Francis replied, unsure of what else to say. His name in Arthur's lips sounded butchered but beautiful all the same. Francis couldn't care less- he simply wanted Arthur to say it again.

"Francis Bonnefoy. What a spectacular name!" Arthur exclaimed, motioning for Francis to sit down. It was as though Arthur had read his mind.

"What do you mean?" Francis questioned, trying to hide the satisfaction in this proclamation of his name.

"I have no idea. I just believe that your name suits you. Francis" he smiled, repeating the name. In his voice, Francis swore that it sounded like an angel had called it out. A silence drew between the two but they didn't mind. What matters is being together, not the conversation. The soft breeze, alongside the whistling of birds, seemed to stop also. It was as if the very forces of earth had stood still for Arthur.

"I believe that there is something about a war in the newspapers." Arthur mumbled, a disheartened sigh escaping his mouth. Francis knew that he was only doing this to cling onto any form of conversation, but this one piqued his interest.

"Are you sh...sure?" As soon as those words left his mouth, he felt like a fool. Why would anyone lie about something like that. Although it was most likely true, he refused to believe it. This was for the sake of his own sanity.

"Yes, my father runs a printing press. The prime minister, although making deals with the other countries, fears the worst." Arthur nodded, a grim expression painted onto his porcelain face.

"Will you have to fight?" Francis stammered out. His mind panicked more than usual at the thought of this. _What if I never see him again?_

"No, they will need me in the schools. Children must be taught, and I'm the closest to a teacher. Or whatever they will use me for. I'm useless for battle anyway."

"What if- what if we never see eachother again." Francis hated talking of only the horrible situations but everything would be a horrible situation if that comes to pass.

"We will Francis, even if I have to bet my life on it. I will always be here for you."

.

Our meetings after that were short and bittersweet, secret rendezvous in the barn where I lived. I had signed up for the air force, they needed any kind of men after all. Arthur was put in the schools of the countryside but he always came back to that farm for me.

.

The rain beat down at the badly glazed windows; it was as though it was trying to claw its way into the room.Trying to fill Francis' mind with the apprehension that was already gnawing at his insides. _Will Arthur still meet here? Will he want to? Is he even alive?_ They hadn't met in months, due to him being stationed in god-knows-where. It wasn't that Arthur was disloyal, Francis just fears his self worth.

He couldn't feel a thing as he stood in the barn, under the orders of Arthur. His heartbeat had finally quietened to a soft thud and the ache in his head had been slowed to a meager roar. It was eerie to say the least, his whole form was calm but the storm outside raged on. _How dare I question his loyalty?_

"Francis?" a small voice came from the roaring storm; he could recognise that voice anywhere. His panic seemed to melt at this one declaration of his name- Arthur is alive. _But what if he has found a life with another? What if his family hate the idea of me and has thrown him out. Maybe he just didn't want to see me but did out of sympathy._

"Francis are you there?" he called again, his voice filling with worry. To stop the pain, in fear of Arthur feeling the same worry that he just put himself through, Francis stepped out into the rain.

"Hello Arthur" he smiled weakly, letting the rain fall into his uniform.

"Oh thank god! You bloody scared me." Arthur pushed out in one breath, stumbling towards Francis. He pushed him against the barn wall, almost collapsing into his arms as he went. The kiss that they shared was painful and full of need.

"See, I am here." Francis whispered, breaking the kiss for air. The rain tried to intrude upon this moment, tried to push through their embrace, but nothing could do that. Nothing could seperate time now.

"I thought that you were dead." he sighed, releasing the grip on Francis. A sombre, almost relieved look washed over Arthur's face. "You hadn't been back in  months and you weren't replying to my letters."

"I couldn't leave without seeing you once more, could I?" Francis chuckled, wiping the rain and tears from Arthur's cheeks. "And I barely got any of your letters. If I did get them, I couldn't reply because of censors."

"I couldn't bare the thought of your death. Father told me to believe that you were, and to give up hope. He doesn't really care about my feelings anyway. Because of that, all I have thought about is your death. I was so guilty. You were off fighting for us and I was staying at home. I am a coward." He looked to the mud covered path in shame.

"Arthur, you are not a coward. You couldn't even join the army with your legs. I fight because I want to be here. Be in this country with you." Francis mumbled, lifting his chin up to meet my gaze. Arthur was born with no lower legs; meaning that he couldn't join the army, even if he wanted to. He admitted this the first time they met after the war began.

"Oh yes, I have something for you." he changed the subject, wiping his tears nervously. Francis nodded with a smile and moved slightly away from him. He began looking through his pockets, stopping with a look of surprise when he found it.

"For you" he smiled, handing a box to Francis. This gesture was confusing, compared to Arthur's initial feelings and previous emotions.

"But I have nothing in return" Francis protested gently, trying to do so without seeming ungrateful.

"Your company is enough, ok? But also, a friend of mine told me that you all have lucky charms in your planes- here's yours." he shook his head and pressed the box into Francis' hands. He pulled off the bow and opened it, inside lay a necklace. On a pillow of dark silk lay an iris wrapped around a cross.

"The national flower of France" Arthur smiled, observing Francis' emotion. There were no words in any language that could explain the way Francis felt in that moment.

"I...er.. thank you! You really shouldn't have. I.. not that I am ungrateful... I will keep this forever." Francis spoke, pulling Arthur in for another hug.

"You needn't get flustered over things like that." Arthur smiled, kissing Francis again.

As all happy moments have to end so bitterly, this one is no different. Francis was hit by the bitter and cold memory that he has to return to base. The doom in the pit of his stomach almost brought him to tears.

"I have to go.... I am needed " Francis looked away from Arthur's eyes. Nothing could come close to the disappointment that lay in his soul- apart from maybe the very feeling that spawned in Arthur's eyes.

"But I need you. You can't go now, we've just met." he pleaded.

"I don't want to leave either, I couldn't stay even if I wanted to." Francis sighed, looking back into his eyes. athletes pain was clear, it pulled at every feeling in Francis' body.

"Please just another hour, stay by my side until I sleep." Arthur ran towards Francis; who was already leaving. He hugged the other tightly, a bitter and pointless gesture.

"I can't, my leaders could have my life over this." Francis sighed. It may have been a small lie but it was what he had to do to escape the seering guilt piling up in his gut.

"Farewell, Francis my love."

"Au revoir, Arthur, Je taime" Francis whispered in his ear as they shared one last embrace. The rain beat down on the two but they couldn't care less. Of the mix of tears and lost hopes, the weather was the least of their worries.

Francis never cared for the weather anyway.

.

 _I held the necklace in shaking hands, tears rolling down my cheeks. A promise of forever made literal. 83 years and I still have it, how could I throw something so precious out? Any memory of Arthur was a memory well spent._


End file.
